


Bad Habit

by EffingEden



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-27
Updated: 2010-11-27
Packaged: 2017-10-13 10:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffingEden/pseuds/EffingEden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master accepts The Doctor's offer of help and says 'thank-you' by stealing the Nutella</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Habit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [creepy_shetan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=creepy_shetan).



> Comment_fic prompt, 'Doctor Who; Doctor/Master; The Master discovers Nutella

“You have a toaster.”

The accusation was softly spoken and without inflection. Not due to any lack of disgust, The Doctor was sure – it probably had more to do with the speaker being closer to physical exhaustion than he’d been since wartime.

He glanced up at the other Timelord, who was poking at where the Doctor had jury-rigged the appliance into the TARDIS. The man was wearing a pair of jeans and a maroon shirt over a black tshirt. The buttons on the jeans and shirt had been left undone – finer motor-function would be impaired for a few more hours. He had thought The Master would stay in hiding until it passed, not relishing the thought of being so vulnerable before a lives-long enemy.

And yet, he had stumbled barefoot into the ‘kitchen’. It made his mouth twitch. “Yep. Got bread, too.”

This got him a glare. A half-lidded, unfocused, a-little-too-far-to-the left glare. Ah, what would come out of that mouth next? Insults, most likely. Or a mocking laugh.

He turned away to peer into a cupboard. “You and your obsessions.”

The Doctor felt his eyebrows slide up his forehead. There was still no tone to the words, but… but he sounded so much like Koschei use to.

“What could one person possible do with all this jam?” _That_ had inflection. The barest hint of… amusement.

Was it having an effect– all their work? Was The Master regaining some of his sanity? Or was he just overtired?

“It’s not _all_ jam,” he protested absently. “There’s marmalade too. A bit of marmite. Honey, near the back.”

The Master grunted and reached for a jar. He examined it then twisted the lid off, leaning against the counter. He sniffed, then – dipped to fingers into the jar.

“Oi!” The Master lifted his gaze. “That’s a really bad habit,” The Doctor snapped. It was more that doing that was a habit he had, too, that made him want to stop The Master from doing it.

The side of The Master’s mouth quirked up for a brief second, more a twitch than a smirk. “A bad man with bad habits. I’m such a trailblazer.” Sarcasm. Well, at least he was lucid enough to snark.

He lifted his fingers from the jar – they were coated to the second knuckle with a heavy brown sludge – and brought them to his mouth. The two digits disappeared inside, and his cheeks hollowed as he sucked on them. His eyes closed for a long moment and a deep rumble came from his chest. The look of unadulterated pleasure that showed through in that moment nearly made both his hearts stop.

Dark eyes flicked open, sly and unabashed, knowing how closely he was being watched. He didn’t do anything as crude as to pump his fingers, but he said it was as much clarity and an infinity more appeal with just that look.


End file.
